Intoxicated
by startraveller776
Summary: Amanda sets out to make amends with Sarek for their first disastrous meeting, only the ambassador isn't quite himself.


_Disclaimer: _Paramount owns Star Trek and the characters therein. I borrow them from time to time, place them in situations and take notes. I receive no monetary compensation for my endeavors.  
><em>Rating:<em> PG  
><em>Genre:<em> Humor, Romance  
><em>Summary:<em> Amanda sets out to make amends with Sarek for their first disastrous meeting, only the ambassador isn't quite himself.

A/N: This was the Gold Medal Winner for the second event of LiveJournal's 2011 Shipper Olympics. (Go Team Kalifarr!) Vulcan words come from the Vulcan Language Dictionary. Translations are in the endnotes.

Special thanks to my awesome beta, **HopefulR**!

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><p><strong>INTOXICATED<strong>

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><p>Amanda slipped out while her date was engrossed in a debate about trade ethics with a group of delegates. She inhaled the crisp air as she stepped onto the wide balcony and drew her wrap tighter around her shoulders. The night was unusually clear for a San Francisco autumn, with the stars twinkling brightly in the dark sky. The view only added to the magic of the evening. Amanda smiled. She might be mature for her twenty-two years of life, but she was still a girl, and she couldn't help but feel a little like a princess at the embassy ball—even if her pragmatic side bristled at such whimsy.<p>

She leaned over the railing and watched her breath drift away in lazy white puffs. She couldn't believe her good fortune—and her bad luck. Weeks ago, the university had been abuzz with the news that the new Vulcan ambassador was offering an internship at the embassy. It was just the thing Amanda needed to round out her résumé before graduating next year. She hoped to land one of the prestigious off-world teaching jobs in the Federation Diplomatic School System.

When she was invited for an interview at the Vulcan embassy, Amanda was thrilled. She had reviewed her Vuhlkansu lessons, refreshed herself on cultural protocol and managed to get her right hand to make the _ta'al_ (she sprained a finger in the process). She had been confident that she was the best candidate for the job, right up until the moment she walked into the ambassador's office.

Ambassador Sarek was not what she had expected. He looked only a few years older than she—though, with Vulcans it was hard to guess ages—and he was handsome. Very, very handsome. Later, Amanda would blame fumbling the Vulcan greeting and salute on her inability to see him as anything but a mystical elven lord from one of her childhood fairytales. The illusion had been dispelled as soon as he opened his mouth, however. He remarked—in acute detail—that her poorly accented Vulcan was unsatisfactory. The interview went downhill from there.

After an hour of blunt critiques and an exhaustive listing of her academic shortfalls—all couched in thinly-veiled comments about general human inadequacy—Amanda snapped. She stood up, ripped the PADD containing her application out of his hands and said, "If this is how the Vulcan _ambassador_ to Earth behaves, then _du lau-shitau vu ozhika wilat ha'ge tor-ri ha'zehl-vulaya_!" As soon as she stormed out of the office, reason crashed into her like a wave of icy water. Had she really just told a Vulcan to stick his logic where the sun didn't shine?

Amanda had spent the next several sleepless nights wondering how thoroughly she had destroyed her future. The internship was the least of her concerns. Sarek's father, Skon, was a Federation ambassador—someone who could have her career grounded before it left the runway. Fortunately, her roommate's brother took pity on her. Roland Bradley, a junior attaché to the Terran ambassador, promised to take her to the next diplomatic social so she could make amends. And of course, it didn't hurt that Roland was good-looking (very) and charismatic (very, very). Two weeks later, when he announced that the next social was to be a ball—formal attire and all—Amanda had been beside herself. Getting her career back on track during an enchanted date with a gorgeous, charming guy? Things were starting to look up.

As soon as she and Roland arrived, she scanned the ballroom for Ambassador Sarek. She found him in a cluster of Vulcans, appearing uncomfortable with the festivities happening around him. In his formal robes, Sarek looked even more as though he had stepped out of her antique copy of _Lord of the Rings_. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and watched Amanda as Roland led her to the dance floor. The ambassador's scrutiny was unsettling, and Amanda guessed that his peaked-brow expression did not bode well for her chances at making restitution.

Five dances later, though, Amanda nearly forgot about the ambassador and her true purpose for attending the ball. Roland spun her around the floor with practiced ease, telling her funny anecdotes from his travels and complimenting her choice of gown. Amanda decided that even if Sarek refused her apology, at least she would still have a nice evening.

After a lively foxtrot, Roland deposited her with a group from the Terran embassy and went in search of refreshments. Amanda took the opportunity to look for Sarek once more, but he was nowhere to be seen, not even among his entourage. Had he left already? She hid her chagrin, smiling politely instead at those around her as they debated over which embassy threw the best parties. Roland returned with a glass of wine for her, and the conversation turned to more serious subjects. After a half-hour, Amanda whispered to Roland that she was going to get some fresh air.

Turning her eyes up at the glittering sky, Amanda figured there was no use wallowing in her disappointment over missing the chance to speak with the ambassador. She might as well make the most of the night—it wasn't every day that she got to attend a formal like this—and, maybe, if Roland enjoyed her company as much as she did his, he just might bring her to another social. Her grandmother had always said anything could be accomplished with enough perseverance. Amanda would just have to find another way to make things right with Ambassador Sarek. For now, she could enjoy her date with Roland—who was pretty exceptional, after all. She might even be tempted to break her rule about not kissing on the first date for him.

She closed her eyes and twirled around, thinking of the way Roland swayed with her on the dance floor. Her spinning came to an abrupt halt when she collided with another warm body. Amanda opened her mouth to apologize, but the words wouldn't come out when she saw who she had almost knocked over. Ambassador Sarek stared down at her as if he were dissecting her with his dark eyes. Amanda felt a flush rise from her toes to the top of her head as she stood, gaping, at the Vulcan. _Of all the times for him to make an appearance…_ She must have looked like a silly girl, dancing by herself like that. Amanda was beginning to think she was never going to catch a break when it came to the ambassador.

"Miss Grayson." His voice was deep and rich, and she wondered briefly if he ever sang.

Amanda shook the errant thought from her mind. The universe was giving her an opportunity to salvage her future career, and she wasn't going to waste it thinking about how much he sounded like warm velvet when he spoke.

"Ambassador, I'm sorry. I—"

"Your apology is unnecessary," he said, cutting her off. "You could not have been expected to avoid…spinning…into me when your eyes were closed. It is of no consequence."

Amanda felt her cheeks burn again. At least he didn't tell her that her speed of rotation was inconsistent. "No—I mean, yes, I am sorry that I bumped into you. But I wanted to apologize for a few weeks ago when…" Her voice failed her. She couldn't bring herself to repeat that awful insult.

"When you told me that I might place my logic where light does not refract," he finished for her with a canted brow. Amanda couldn't tell whether he was offended or not. Curse that Vulcan composure!

"Yes," she said, a little too loudly. Before she could lose her nerve, she went on in a rush. "I know that was an offensive thing to say, and I'm not normally like that, I promise. I mean, please don't judge me by that one foolish outburst. I'm sorrier than you could know, Ambassador."

_Shut up, shut up, shut up, Amanda!_ None of this was going according to plan. She was supposed to be composed—cool and collected—not stammering on like a schoolgirl who had just been caught passing notes in class.

His eyes never wavered from hers. "Perhaps you were not the only one at fault." He clasped his hands behind his back and stepped toward the balcony railing. "In retrospect, I realize that my manner may have been…off-putting." He glanced back at her. "Is that the correct term?"

Amanda kept her mouth from dropping open—barely. In the various scenarios she had played out in her mind, she had never imagined the stuffy ambassador making a concession like this. Maybe he wasn't as rude as she thought he was. "Yes, Ambassador," she answered.

"You may address me by my name." He turned and began walking toward the dark, secluded corner of the balcony. When she didn't immediately follow, he paused and gave her a pointed look over his shoulder.

Amanda felt a nervous flutter as she joined him. She found the ambassador's behavior difficult to predict. What did he want to say to her that could not be said closer to the doors of the ballroom? What more could he have to say to her at all? Amanda looked back at the ballroom, hoping that Roland would come for her and give her an excuse leave.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Sarek faced her. "There is a human vernacular that I believe to be well-suited for this occasion." He tilted his head. "Miss Grayson, you…'look hot.'"

Amanda gawked at him. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, did you just say that I…that I look _hot_?" Of all the things she thought he might say, this was not even close to being on the list.

"Sarek," he corrected. "Is that not the proper expression to indicate that I find you aesthetically pleasing?"

Amanda worked her jaw, trying to form a response. Was he flirting with her? _Did_ Vulcans flirt? _Talk about unpredictable!_

"Have I offended you?" he asked with a slight frown. "It was my understanding that it is customary for a male to comment on how desirable he finds an attractive female during a social event such as this."

A squeak was all Amanda could muster at his admission. She was tempted to pinch herself, to wake herself from this insane dream that her subconscious had conjured. This could not be happening in real life.

"Perhaps I used an inappropriate idiom. Would 'you are breath-taking this evening' be more correct?" He stepped even closer, and studied her face with a furrowed brow. "Are you ill, Miss Grayson?"

"No?" Why did everything out of her mouth have to sound like a question? "I'm okay. I mean, you're kind of catching me off guard." When he cocked his head, she amended, "You're surprising me." Now that he was closer, she could see that something was a little off about him. "Ambassador, can I ask you a personal question?"

"My name is Sarek," he said, "and you may make any inquiry you wish."

Amanda blinked at him. What was the deal with his name? Was that some Vulcan thing? "Are you all right?"

He pursed his lips. "This term, 'all right,' has multiple meanings. Please specify.'"

Amanda bit her lip, wondering what "all right" would be for a Vulcan. Trying to use terms that he might understand best, she said, "I mean to ask if your current behavior falls within the norm for your species."

His eyes became distant for a moment before settling back on her. "I believe it does not." That did not sound promising.

"Um, then is this behavior normal for you, specifically?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

"Indeed not," he replied with a slight shake of his head. "Were you aware that chocolate was a common ingredient in many of your heated beverages?"

Something niggled in Amanda's mind at the word 'chocolate,' but she couldn't remember why it was important. "Yes."

"I was not aware of this. Chocolate has a similar effect on Vulcans as alcohol has on your species."

"Oh." Amanda's eyes widened as she processed his meaning. "Oh! You mean…you're…_drunk_?"

He blinked in confusion. "If you are implying that I drank the beverage, then yes—four cups, to be precise, before I discovered the oversight."

She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from chuckling. Not that the ambassador getting drunk by accident was a laughing matter—a part of her was offended on his behalf—but just when she thought the situation couldn't get any more ridiculous, it did.

"'Drunk' is slang for 'intoxicated,'" she explained when she could contain her giggles.

He cocked his head. "An apt descriptor, though 'inebriated' is a more appropriate term for my current state." He lifted a brow. "This is a most fascinating experience."

Amanda thought it was no wonder that he had escaped to the balcony; being inebriated must be undignified for a Vulcan—especially for one holding a position such as his. Although, she mentally revised, he was really more tipsy than drunk. He probably could have stayed in the ballroom without anyone being the wiser—well, any _human_, in any case.

"'Intoxicated' is a word used to describe something other than inebriation, is it not?" he asked, drawing her attention back to him. "For instance, I could say, 'Miss Grayson, I find you intoxicating.' It is used in the same manner as 'hot,' 'breath-taking,' 'captivating,' or 'enchanting,' correct? There is another word that I believe falls under this category, but I find it too crass."

_Whoa!_ How did their conversation turn back to this? "Ambassador, do you want me to send for someone? Should I warn the others about the chocolate?" Her questions exploded from her in a flurry of words. She had never heard of anyone dying from blushing too much, but all that blood rushing to her skin couldn't be healthy either.

He drew his brows together. "Sarek. I will call you Amanda, and you will call me Sarek."

"O-okay…Sarek." She felt awkward saying his name. "I think I should get some help."

He closed his eyes. "I find your pronunciation of my name inexplicably agreeable. Please say it again."

She decided he was wise to steer clear of the ballroom, after all. "Um, why don't you stay put while I find your assistant?"

Sarek held up his hand. "If I needed help, then logically, I would have asked for it. I prefer to have your company." For a brief moment, he looked almost vulnerable. "Please do not leave, Amanda."

She felt torn. Somewhere inside, another Vulcan could be boozing up unintentionally, and yet Amanda didn't feel right about leaving the ambassador alone like this. "At least let me tell someone about the chocolate."

"Your concern is admirable, but unneeded. The matter has been resolved." He moved closer to her. "I propose a change of subject, if you would be amenable. I submit that we return to a more stimulating topic. I believe I have the proper equations now to calculate the level of your 'hotness.'" He crooked a brow. "This word, 'hotness,' seems to amuse me. Intriguing."

"Proper equations?" Amanda repeated with a gulp. Just how much of his inhibitions had been removed for the ambassador to be so determined to expound on how attractive he found her? _Handsome, mythical elven lord gets drunk and hits on a mere mortal._ Yeah, this had to be some wacky dream.

"Indeed." He took another step closer. "Taking into account your stature, the symmetry of your features, your chosen attire that accentuates the health of your figure, and…" —he paused, inhaling deeply— "your scent, on a scale of one to one hundred, I calculate the level of your 'hotness' to be 97.89542136 with a 5.64 percent margin of error. It is only nominally higher than your appeal during our previous encounter."

Amanda was flattered and unsettled all at once, and the conflicting emotions made her a little queasy. "You calculated my hotness level during my interview?"

"Of course not." He looked as if the notion had never occurred to him before. "I have an eidetic memory. Shall we review our initial meeting? Your attire—"

"No! I mean, no thank you. I, uh, trust your judgment." She pinched her arm, hoping that she wouldn't feel it. No such luck. This was all happening in the real world.

"The formula is not without its flaws," he continued. "There are other variables that I did not factor into my equations, such as your level of intelligence relative to age, your personality—"

"Sarek," she interjected, growing more uncomfortable with his thorough assessment, "can we please talk about something else?" She felt a sudden desire to flee to the powder room.

"What topic would be more agreeable to you?" He was so close to her now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She caught a whiff of coffee and chocolate, and some other indefinable, exotic scent as a soft breeze wound around them. Unconsciously, Amanda started calculating _his_ hotness level, and she reddened when she realized that it was very high.

"I don't know," she answered after regaining her bearings.

"Perhaps you could answer a query for me, then."

Amanda nodded for him to go on. Whatever his question, it couldn't be more blush-worthy than estimating her allure.

"Why are humans fascinated with kissing, Amanda?"

"Why…what?" she stuttered. _Good grief!_

His gaze flicked briefly to her lips. "The practice is unsanitary," he said, though his expression seemed to imply that he didn't necessarily find the idea repugnant.

Amanda's stomach did backflips as she involuntarily imagined what it would be like to kiss the ambassador. "Maybe we could try another topic," she said in a shaky voice.

"I do not wish to change the subject." He leaned in closer. "Please explain kissing to me, Amanda."

Briefly, she wondered if he possessed some kind of magic, like the fabled creatures he resembled. Amanda tried to collect herself, to give him a scholarly answer. "There are, uh, many kinds of kisses, Amb—Sarek. Kisses between friends and family are comparatively similar, but kisses between," she paused, her face on fire, "lovers are different. Kisses are used to express affection, among other things."

"Please define 'other things.'" His nose was nearly touching hers.

"I—" Her mouth was suddenly dry. "I don't think I can."

"In that case," he replied in a low voice, "I request a demonstration—for scientific purposes."

"Scientific purposes," Amanda echoed back, overwhelmed by the quickly changing course of their conversation. Somewhere inside of her, a voice said that it was probably not a good idea to kiss a good-looking, drunken Vulcan ambassador, especially when she was here with someone else. Who was she here with again? "Roland."

Sarek raised a brow. "I believe that you, Amanda, are in a better position than Mr. Bradley to demonstrate this."

Before she could protest, Sarek leaned in and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was tentative, his lips surprisingly soft and warm. Amanda felt the hint of something else in the contact that she couldn't name. It was alien, and she was sure it came from him. Didn't she read somewhere that Vulcans were touch telepaths?

Too soon, he ended the kiss and drew back. Amanda thought she saw the corners of his lips turn upward in a tiny smile. "Curious."

"Curious?" Amanda's breathing was becoming a little erratic. This was all wrong, and yet, she had to admit that she wasn't exactly anxious to end this discussion.

"I presume that there are multiple degrees of this 'kissing.'" He brought his lips nearly to hers again. "I would like to conduct a thorough study."

He kissed her again, this time without hesitation. His warm lips pressed against hers more firmly, as though he wasn't as naive about kissing as he proclaimed to be. Amanda's body began to tingle as the alien emotion she felt from him intensified. _Want, attraction, need, possessiveness__…_

Sarek pulled back slowly. "Most agreeable," he whispered. "There is more, correct?"

"Mm-mm." Amanda couldn't speak; her heart pounded against her ribcage.

"Will you show me?" He didn't wait for her to respond before leaning forward once more. Just as their lips touched, a familiar voice carried across the balcony.

"Amanda? Are you out here?"

Amanda jumped back, her cheeks burning. It was Roland, her date—the man she had _planned_ to kiss by the end of the evening.

"There you are, Amanda," Roland said as he came towards them. His easy smile told Amanda that he hadn't witnessed anything. "I've been looking for you." He nodded toward Sarek. "Ambassador."

Amanda glanced at Sarek and was relieved to see that his face was a mask of Vulcan composure. She mentally crossed her fingers in the hope that when he opened his mouth, he wouldn't give away his inebriated state. Her hope wasn't born of an altruistic desire to preserve the ambassador's dignity; she was more worried that he might give Roland a full accounting of their conversation and…activities.

"Mr. Bradley." Sarek inclined his head. "If I understand human social protocol correctly, it would be courteous to inquire if you are enjoying this gathering."

Roland's brows climbed his forehead as if he were surprised by the ambassador's politeness. "I am having a good time. Thank you for asking." Amanda felt guilty when he gave her a quick grin. "And you, Ambassador? Are you finding the festivities to be…agreeable?"

Amanda held her breath as she waited for Sarek to answer. "Indeed," he said. "This evening has been far more pleasant than I anticipated."

Roland smiled. "I'm glad that you and Amanda were able to reconcile." He flashed a thumbs-up toward her.

"Me too," she chimed in with a nervous laugh. She didn't know how long Sarek could hold himself together.

Roland nudged her. "I told you it would work out."

Her voice was three octaves too high when she replied through a tight smile, "Yes, you did."

Roland didn't seem to notice, but Sarek raised his brow at her, looking for all the world like he was _amused_. "Fascinating."

"Well, if you're through with my date, Ambassador," Roland said, offering his arm to Amanda, "I'd love to take her for another spin on the dance floor."

Sarek tilted his head. "Miss Grayson does have a predilection for spinning."

Amanda didn't think highly of women who swooned and fainted, but she was beginning to think that passing out right now might not be a bad idea. But then again, who knew what Sarek might say or do when she was out cold? It was too risky. She would just have to die of embarrassment instead.

"Are we done, Ambassador?" she asked. She didn't know whether she wanted him to say yes or no.

Sarek studied her for several heartbeats, and then turned to Roland. "Unfortunately, Mr. Bradley," he said, "I do not believe that I am finished with Miss Grayson yet."

Amanda made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and tried to cover it with a cough. _Not finished with her yet?_ What did that mean? She could feel her entire body flush from...what? Mortification? Arousal? Her blush deepened when she realized it was both.

Roland shrugged and smiled, apparently unaware of the crazy tension between the ambassador and Amanda. (Or had she read too much in Sarek's words?) "Sure, okay," Roland said. He leaned toward Amanda and, squeezing her hand, whispered. "I bet you got that internship."

Amanda's stomach dropped. If the ambassador offered her the job now, it wouldn't be ethical to take it. "Maybe." She gave Roland a weak smile.

"Well then, I'll see you inside." Roland turned to Sarek and bowed. "Ambassador, I hope that the rest of your evening continues to be pleasant."

"That is my wish as well." Sarek gave him the Vulcan salute. "Good evening, Mr. Bradley."

With nervous anticipation, Amanda watched Roland as he walked back into the ballroom. Everything seemed to be happening too fast, and she wanted a moment to catch her breath, to make sense of the evening. How had she gone from offering an apology to the Vulcan Ambassador to making out with him? This was not how the night was supposed to go—not at all!

"Mr. Bradley is a…suitor?" Sarek said behind her.

She turned and looked up at the tall Vulcan—the tall, _drunk_ Vulcan. He probably wasn't even going to remember this tomorrow. She knew nothing about him; he could be married, for crying out loud. Amanda frowned. She had just leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire, hadn't she? _Stupid, stupid girl._

"Why? Are you offering, Ambassador?" The flippant words were out of her mouth before she could think better of it. She ground her teeth. What was it about this man that had her sticking her foot in her mouth all the time?

Sarek cocked his head to the side. "An intriguing proposition." He closed the short distance between them. "Would more kissing be involved?"

Her knees wobbled at the thought. _Don't go there, Amanda_. She commanded her feet to back away, but nothing happened. "I'm sorry, Ambassador—"

"Sarek."

"—Sarek, I don't know why I said that." She sighed. It took every ounce of her self-control not to offer to pick up where they left off. Why did he have to be so, well, hot? "We shouldn't have…been doing that…when you're not yourself."

"I can assure you, Amanda, that I am myself," he said with a frown.

"No, I mean…" She wanted to groan over the miscommunication—and over the part of her that wished he would shut her up with another kiss. "I mean, you're in an altered state. You're not behaving like you normally would."

He stared at her, and then nodded slowly. "I understand." He reached toward her with his first two fingers extended and stopped short of touching her cheek. "You wish to revisit your proposal when I am…sober." His hand dropped to his side.

Amanda started to tell him that wasn't what she had meant at all, but decided it didn't matter. He wouldn't remember. "Sure," she said. "Let's talk when the chocolate's out of your system." She doubted that he'd call her when he came to his senses. This would be one of those stories she'd tell her grandkids someday. _Hey, did you know I made out with a Vulcan ambassador once? And he was even drunk!_

"That is logical. I agree to your terms." He looked down at her with a quirked brow. "Is it necessary to expectorate into our hands and shake in order to confirm our arrangement? I find the practice disturbingly unhygienic."

Amanda let out a burst of laughter, feeling the tension ebb. "I don't think anyone's sealed an agreement that way for centuries." She shook her head. "Humans still shake hands when they make a deal, but without the…expectorating." Remembering that Vulcans were sensitive about touching, she added, "We don't need to shake on it."

A silence settled over them, and Amanda wondered if she ought to say a polite goodbye and go find Roland. She felt a touch of disappointment that this bizarre, incredible, once-in-a-lifetime encounter was coming to an end. There was no forgetting this for her, even if Sarek wouldn't remember much, if any, of it. She only regretted that he wouldn't recall her apology, which meant she would have to muster up the courage to make another attempt later.

Without warning, Sarek leaned forward pressed his lips gently to hers. The kiss was brief; he pulled back almost before Amanda could register what had happened. "Consider that my token for our 'deal.'" He stepped back. "Miss Grayson, you have made this evening most agreeable." Raising his hand in the _ta'al_, he said, "Until we meet again."

She returned the salute with a wistful smile. "Sochya eh dif, Kevet-dutar." _Peace and long life, Ambassador._

Amanda left the balcony thinking it was too bad that Sarek wouldn't be able to keep his end of the bargain.

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><p><strong>=\=**

Two days later, early Sunday afternoon, Amanda's door chimed. She was in her pajamas, painting her toenails, and watching her favorite remake of _Pride & Prejudice_.

"Erika! Can you get the door?" she yelled as she added another layer of red lacquer to her big toe.

When the door chimed again, Amanda remembered that her roommate had gone to the library for study group. With a groan—who could be coming over unannounced?—Amanda pulled her hair back into a ponytail and stood up. She banged her leg against the coffee table, inadvertently knocking over the bottle of nail polish. Muttering a curse, Amanda tried to wipe the mess off the glass top. She glowered when the door chime went off again.

"Good grief! I'm coming already!" she hollered to her mysterious guest.

Waddling down the hall on her heels took more balance than Amanda had, and just before reaching the door, she crashed into the wall. Rubbing her shoulder, she decided that whoever it was, he or she had better have a fantastic excuse for interrupting her quiet day. She swung the door open, prepared to make a snarky comment about bothering people on a Sunday when she found herself looking up at the face of Ambassador Sarek.

She blinked several times, sure she was hallucinating. "A-ambassador?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Grayson." His eyes flicked to her clothes, and for a giddy moment, Amanda wondered if he was assessing her hotness level when she was in her pajamas.

_Oh no!_ She was in her pajamas—her braless, tank-top, boy-boxer-shorts pajamas. His stare made her feel as if she had even less on. Reflexively, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"It would seem that I have come at an inopportune time," Sarek said, averting his eyes.

"No, no. I was just…" She was just flustered. "Do you want to come in?"

He didn't answer right away, and Amanda had trouble guessing what he might be thinking. His face was far less expressive than it had been two nights ago. After a long, awkward silence, he said, "If it would not be an imposition."

"No, of course not." She stepped back so he could enter. He was so tall, and shrouded in his brocaded robes, he seemed to fill the entire hallway. He looked even more alien standing in her humble human house. He belonged in some grand castle with marbled pillars, she thought as she led him to the living room. She hastily gathered her things from the coffee table and said a silent "thank you" to whatever power in the universe had given her a roommate who was nearly OCD about cleanliness.

"I, uh, I'm just going to put this away and change into something more appropriate," she said. "Make yourself at home. I mean, make yourself comfortable—have a seat or look around."

When she was sure he understood, Amanda darted to her bedroom, no longer bothering with protecting the still-drying polish on her toes. She tossed her nail stuff on her bed, and dug in her closet to find something modest. She settled on a pair of jeans and fitted, long-sleeved blouse. She almost threw on one of her bulky sweaters, thinking of how many layers Sarek always seemed to wear, but decided against it. She would overheat in a matter of minutes.

When she came back to the living room, she found Sarek, hands clasped behind his back, leaning forward to study the photos on the mantel. He seemed particularly interested in the one of her, Roland and Erika together at the Grand Canyon.

"That's my roommate, Erika Bradley," Amanda explained. "Roland is her brother." _Not my boyfriend_, she almost said.

Sarek glanced at her. "This place" —he indicated the photo— "is not unlike Vulcan."

Amanda nodded, though from what she read, Death Valley or the Sahara sounded more like his home planet. "Have you been there? The Grand Canyon?"

"I have not had the opportunity."

They looked at each other for an uncomfortable moment. She wasn't sure what to say next. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. _Smooth, Amanda. _

"I do not require liquid refreshment at this time," he replied, "but…your offer is appreciated."

"Okay." Amanda glanced around the room as another silence fell between them. _What now?_

"Miss Grayson, I have come to offer my apologies." He looked away from her. "I regret that my behavior during the embassy ball may have caused you harm."

Amanda blushed as she recalled how his lips felt against hers. "He remembers," she whispered to herself.

He turned back to her. "I recall all of the events from that evening."

"Oh," was all Amanda could manage. _He remembers, and he's embarrassed._ She should have listened to that warning voice that told her not to play kissing games with an inebriated Vulcan ambassador. Echoes of "stupid, stupid girl" bounced around in her head.

"I am aware that you desired the internship," he went on in a gentle voice. "I am also aware that according to the moral code of your species, offering you this position under the present circumstances, with our personal parameters unclear, would be unethical. Were I to guarantee that I would make no such…advances…in the future, and taking into consideration that no one else is privy to what transpired between us, you could, perhaps, safely accept the internship—if that is still your wish."

He tilted his head. "You are the most qualified applicant."

Amanda blinked at him as she took in his words. _Our personal parameters unclear…no advances in the future…I regret my behavior…accept the internship…_ The job, he was offering her the job. He was offering to get her career back on track, and apologizing for his illogical conduct the night of the ball.

So why did she feel disappointed? Amanda should be doing joyful backflips inside her head, but instead she felt…deflated. She would take the internship, of course. She opened her mouth to say as much when Sarek spoke again.

"Except…" He hesitated, averting his gaze.

Amanda felt her stomach clench. She was certain he was now going to tell her that his Vulcan moral code forbade him from offering the job. "Except?"

Sarek let out a soft sigh. "Miss Grayson," he said, almost in a whisper, "I…do not wish to refrain from pursuing an intimate relationship with you."

_What?_ Amanda's eyes widened. "Intimate relationship?" Was he talking about dating, or just…kissing and stuff? Did Vulcans even have casual relationships? They were so frustratingly private that humans, including Amanda, knew next to nothing about their mating practices. Was he married and looking for a mistress_?_ She wished someone would come in and shake some sense into her—maybe shake some sense _out _of him while they were at it.

He brought his dark eyes to hers, and though his expression hadn't changed, he somehow looked as vulnerable as he did when he had asked her to stay with him on the balcony. "I wish to…court you," he said.

Amanda felt the irrational urge to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. She was sure that no human had ever had such peculiar encounters with a Vulcan. "You want to _court_ me?" Did the archaic term mean the same to Vulcans as it did to humans?

"That is the correct term, is it not? To socialize with one another with the intended purpose of assessing the viability of a permanent pairing?" He tilted his head. "You did express a desire to revisit the possibility when I was 'myself.'"

Her first thought was a relieved, _he's not married_. Her second thought was, _holy impolite-word_, _he's thinking he might want to marry _me_!_ Amanda snapped her mouth shut when she realized it was hanging open. "Why? I mean, why me?" she stuttered. "I'm human." She gave herself a mental head-smack for that last statement. _Good job, Captain Obvious._

"I am very aware that you are human, Amanda" he murmured, taking a tentative step forward. Stupidly, Amanda wondered again if he ever used that deep, rich, delicious voice to sing. "You are an exceptional female, no matter your species."

She didn't bother to hide the shocked-guppy expression she was sure that she wore now. His words made her skin prickle with apprehension and desire.

Mistaking her silence as rejection, he added, "However, if you do not find this agreeable, you have my assurance that I will abstain from making this proposition again. It will have no effect on your candidacy for the internship."

"Wait," she said, throwing up her hands. She felt like she was trapped in a whirlwind, and she wanted a moment to process it all. "Can we please just wait a second—a minute, I mean?"

"Of course." He still had that vulnerability in his eyes, and the look made Amanda think that it might have been hard for him to admit his desire to date her.

"So, let me get this straight," she said after a few deep breaths, "you want to date me, and if I say 'no' I can have the internship."

"I believe that is what I expressed."

This was nuts. Amanda almost barked a laugh of disbelief, but quickly stifled it with her hand over her mouth. She didn't want Sarek to think she was laughing at him—she wasn't. She was laughing at herself for being stuck in this crazy situation, and at the universe for flipping her life on its head from the moment she met Sarek on the balcony. No, she corrected herself, it was from the moment she laid eyes on him during her job interview.

_Focus, Amanda_. She had a decision to make: taking the internship that could cinch her future career—but wasn't guaranteed to do so—or dating a handsome, make-her-weak-in-the-knees-with-his-lips Vulcan ambassador, which might lead nowhere.

"If we did date, what happens if it turns out that we're not…compatible?" she asked, surprising herself with the question. Was she seriously considering that option? She had to admit that after the ball, she was far more attracted to Sarek than she was to Roland—or _any_ man.

"I would endeavor to make certain that your future prospects were not harmed by our time together."

She searched his face. He seemed to have it all figured out. Didn't a guy who worked so hard deserve a chance? Feeling butterflies in her stomach, she asked, "Will you kiss me, Sarek?"

He raised both brows. "I beg your pardon?"

The butterflies fluttered faster. "Physical chemistry—physical _compatibility_—is important in human relationships," she explained, feeling her face burning. "I need to know that what I felt between us at the embassy ball wasn't a fluke."

He was silent for a minute. "Your request is logical," he replied.

He stepped to her and pressed his lips to hers—warm and soft, just as she remembered, but not tentative. He seemed to be picking up where they left off at the ball. His mouth moved against hers with comfortable familiarity, as if he had been kissing her for years and knew how to make her want to melt into him. And she wanted to melt, so very badly. She felt that strange, tantalizing alien emotion coming from him—more subdued than before, but still persistent. Her entire body was on fire, and when her legs nearly gave way from the overwhelming attraction, she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

She gasped when he released her. "Does that sufficiently meet your requirements?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and grinned. "You may court me, Sarek."

Years later, when Spock asked her why she married his father, Amanda was tempted to admit that it was because Sarek's kiss was intoxicating.

**~FIN~  
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><p>AN: Vulcan Translations:

Vuhlkansu = Vulcan (in this case, the Vulcan language)  
>Ta'al = Vulcan hand salute<br>Du lau-shitau vu ozhika wilat ha'ge tor-ri ha'zehl-vulaya! = You may place your logic where light does not refract (literally: "You may place you logic where light do not refraction" Hey, Amanda is human, and Vuhlkansu is a difficult language. :-P )  
>Sochya eh dif, kevet-dutar = Peace and long life, Ambassador.<p>

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